Tracking a Friend's Footprints
by Debra N
Summary: ATF AU - JD barely survives an attack by three mysterious attackers and it's up to his teammates to find out who they were.  Will the rest of the Seven be able to protect JD when he becomes a target again.
1. Lost in a daze

**Tracking a Friend's Footsteps**

Disclaimer: I don't own the Magnificent Seven or any of its characters. This work of fiction is purely for entertainment purposes. No profits were made and no harm was intended.

Notes: This story was supposed to be a birthday story for Phyllis. But then real life knocked me out of the fan fiction venue for more than three years. I've always believed better late than never so here it is edited, revised, and finally finished. Alex Kade worked as beta on this story. Any remaining mistakes are mine. Sections in _Italics_ are thoughts or memories.

* * *

><p>Quiet. Even within the turbulent mixture of confusion, pain and fear that encompassed JD's reality, he knew he needed to be quiet. Unfortunately the rusty hinges of the metal door he was trying to shut were not being cooperative. Turning away from the door JD tripped over some unidentifiable piece of debris. The unplanned lurch sent a spike of pain through his ankle and placed even more pressure on his swollen knee. He tried to ignore the pain and pay more attention to the cracked pavement in front of him, but it was so hard when the ground shifted beneath his feet without warning and everything else kept sliding in and out of focus. JD rallied his thoughts. It didn't matter how hard it was; he needed to keep moving; needed to stay ahead of the hunters stalking him. He couldn't remember who was hunting him, but as far as he was concerned 'who' was irrelevant. When you were being hunted you had three simple choices; you could run, you could fight or you could die. JD wasn't prepared to die just yet, but he was far too weak to fight which left running as the only viable option.<p>

Another stumble had him clinging to a dumpster for balance. Despite the stench he found his head resting on the lowered lid as he tried to draw unsteady breaths past his aching ribs. The pounding pulse in his ears seemed to ease a bit but JD knew he'd have to start moving again soon. It wasn't just his life at stake. He had to warn . . . someone . . . someone important. JD groaned as he tried to grasp the vital memory that eluded him. The closest he could come was the certainty that it was related to work. If he could just get to his teammates and warn them of the threat, then he could rest.

He lifted his head, pleased to realize that, though he was still having trouble focusing, at least the ground beneath him appeared to have stopped moving. To his left a scattering of colorful lights drove back the darkness while engines and voices combined to tell of a busy street. It would be risky moving out into the open, but JD's best chance at warning the others required a phone, and his own cell had been lost or taken during the last few hours. He honestly couldn't recall which. Settled on a course of action, the young agent straightened and took a steadying breath before moving away from the support of the dumpster.

Screeching hinges and the echo of profanity-laden voices came from the dead end of the alley. Instinct overrode conscious thought to send JD scurrying for cover, creeping sideways into the narrow space between the dumpster and the building. The crouched position he was forced to take made his knee and ankle both throb with pain. Biting his lip barely held back a groan, but he knew he had to remain silent as the voices neared.

"I'm just saying, I don't see why the hell we've got to keep looking," whined the first voice. The image of a thin, narrow-faced man with greasy black hair and the tan skin of an indeterminate heritage came to JD's mind. "He got away! I say we cut our losses and split before the damn cops move in."

"We're going to keep looking until we find that little runt, because I'm not willing to sacrifice everything that I've built to your incompetence," came the scathing reply. This voice belonged to a thirty-something suited man. He was the real danger; the one that JD had to warn his team about.

"How the hell were we supposed to know he was a Fed? He barely looks old enough to be done with high school." Whiney protested.

"That's what I'm here for," reminded Suit. "You bring me information on prospective deals and I identify the risks. I'm the reason you weren't arrested or killed months ago."

"Let's not forget the tidy profit you earn for your services," insisted the deep voice of the third member of the trio. The image of a mahogany skinned man wearing jeans and a leather jacket floated through JD's mind. "Maybe we were sick of you cutting into our profits."

"And a fine job you've done on your own," Suit tossed back sarcastically. "The one guns for drugs deal you manage to cut on your own and it's with a couple of Feds. I'd be happy to let both of you drown in your own stupidity, but you just had to share my part of our arrangement with the boy Fed. Now I have no choice but to clean up your mess."

"Alright already," conceded Whiney. "We screwed up. We get that. But how are we going to find the little runt?"

"We'll backtrack," replied Suit. "I doubt he could have made it this far in his condition. We must have missed him somewhere inside." Footsteps receded through the junk cluttered alley.

A second screech of hinges was accompanied by, "Are you coming Trey?"

"I'm coming," answered the sullen voice of the mahogany skinned man.

JD stayed silent while the door at the back of the alley closed. He held still for several unbearably long moments fearing his hunters might realize their mistake and burst back out into the alley. Finally the light and bustle from the street; the lure of escape, was too powerful for JD to ignore. Cautiously he tried to maneuver out from behind the dumpster without further damaging his abused body. He was able to elude additional injuries, but he couldn't avoid the burning tingle of one over-tensed leg as circulation suddenly returned. He didn't bother to stifle his groan. Keeping one hand on the wall to maintain his balance, the agent slowly shuffled his way towards the safety of the street.

"What the. .?"

Spinning to face the voice made black spots dance before JD's eyes, but as his vision cleared he recognized his third pursuer. Trey, with a smoking cigarette hanging from his lips, looked as surprised as JD. For an indeterminable moment predator and prey stared each other down. Trey appeared to be shocked immobile by the sudden discovery of his victim, while JD was cursing the nicotine addiction that convinced Trey to have a smoke in the alley instead of following his partners. Then JD's flight instinct kicked in and he was running for the street as fast as he could. His injuries hobbled him but he hoped that being closer to the street would be enough of an advantage to evade his foe.

Dunne felt a tug at the fabric on his back and jerked forward before his opponent could tighten his grip. Blind panic pushed his body beyond its limits as escape became the only coherent thought in his mind. Nothing else could draw JD's attention away from the need to flee; not the sudden flash of white light in his peripheral vision or the squealing of tires.

As his body was flung through the air it occurred to a small, disconnected part of his brain that he should be in more pain, but by the time he landed on the street there was only darkness.

* * *

><p>Their food had just arrived and Buck and his date, Beth, dug into their Italian dishes with gusto. For their first date Buck had already eliminated any thought of a quick seduction for the lovely young widow. Instincts sharpened by years of keeping company with the opposite sex warned that the somewhat shy lady was inclined towards slow moves and serious commitment. Buck kept the mood light and friendly with minimal effort. Contrary to popular belief there were no notches on his bedpost and he certainly didn't need to have a different woman in his bed every night. While it was true that there had been a time in his youth that he would have considered this date a waste of time, experience and maturity taught him differently. Buck was happy to enjoy the good food and wine in the company of a beautiful and intelligent woman. She might not be inclined towards the 'no strings attached' sort of loving that Buck preferred but that didn't mean this date couldn't evolve into a worthwhile friendship. Beth might even be willing to introduce him to a few lady friends with inclinations more compatible with his own.<p>

They'd covered several topics while waiting for their entrees and Buck had been pleasantly surprised to find that once he got past her natural reserve there was no such thing as a taboo topic. She also had a wickedly dry sense of humor that reminded him a bit of Vin.

In fact, it had been months since Buck had indulged in his hobby of playing matchmaker. Nathan seemed to have figured out the lay of the land with Rain. Getting JD and Casey together had required considerably more effort, but they'd finally seen the light and were now a steady couple. Buck considered Chris's marriage to Sarah to be one of his greatest achievements, but that didn't mean he planned to try again. Losing Sarah and Adam had changed Chris. Buck didn't know if Chris would ever be ready to settle down and surrender his heart again. Besides, between Lydia, Maria and the occasional flirtation with Mary, the old war dog certainly wasn't hurting for feminine companionship.

Vin on the other hand had been virtually celibate since the whole Charlotte debacle. Buck felt somewhat guilty about the teasing he'd given the sharpshooter at the time. He'd been so preoccupied with his bet with Ezra that he hadn't realized how far Vin had fallen until it was too late. Though quite a bit of time had passed since Charlotte had walked away, Tanner was still acting like a hermit; at least where the ladies were concerned. Beth might be just what was needed to draw the quiet man out, and even if it didn't develop into some grand romance at least it would get Vin 'back on the horse' so to speak.

Buck was trying to decide if a barbeque at Chris's ranch or the play Josiah was helping out with at the community center would be the best way to introduce Vin to Beth when his cell phone rang. Recognizing Nathan's ring tone, Buck apologized to Beth for the interruption before answering.

"What's up, Nathan?" he asked. The others had known he would be on a date tonight, and Nathan was probably the least likely of their team to pester him with something frivolous.

"Now Buck, you're not going to like what I'm about to say, but I need you to stay calm, and hear me out," warned Nathan.

"I'm listening," Buck hissed out between clenched teeth. There was no way what he was about to hear could be good.

"I just got a call from my paramedic buddy, Aaron. He and his partner were responding to a 'vehicle verses pedestrian' call. When they rolled up the victim was being handcuffed and dragged to another car despite being unconscious. The guy trying to 'arrest' the victim was waving a badge, claiming to be a Fed, but Aaron said the whole situation felt wrong. Then he got a good look at the victim and recognized JD from his CPR re-certification a couple of weeks ago. He knows we work a lot of undercover so instead of identifying JD, he quoted regulations on suspects receiving required medical treatment. Right about then a couple of patrol cars pulled up and the so-called Fed backed down. In fact, while Aaron and his partner were stabilizing their patient for transfer, the Fed just disappeared into the shadows. Now Aaron admitted that they couldn't find a wallet or even a cell phone to identify their patient as JD. I described the knife wound he received during Olivia's kidnapping, as well as the gunshot wound from Maddie. Aaron confirmed both scars were right where I said, so . . ."

"So it's got to be JD," agreed Buck. The light pasta he'd been enjoying just moments before now sat like a brick in his gut. "What hospital is he being taken to?"

"Denver General. It's the closest Level 1 trauma unit. Chris said he'd head to your apartment to see if JD ever made it home tonight, then he'll meet up with Vin; and Josiah will start on the paperwork side of the investigation. You're to head to the hospital since you've got JD's medical power of attorney. I'll meet you over there just as soon as I've reached Ezra," detailed Nathan.

"Got it." Buck ended the call without bothering to say goodbye. "I'm sorry Beth, my roommate's been in an accident and I need to get to the hospital."

"Of course," agreed Beth. She'd easily recognized the sudden jump in tension as Buck listened to his call. "Is there anything I can do to help?"

A distracted shake of Buck's head was his only reply. Standing he signaled a nearby waitress. "I've got a family emergency so we need our bill rung up immediately," he instructed, handing her his debit card. As he grabbed his coat he remembered that he'd picked Beth up from her apartment, which was in the opposite direction from the hospital. "Damn, this is a lousy way to end a date, but I'm going to leave you cab fare so you can get home on your own." Slender fingers closed around Buck's hand as he started to rummage through his wallet.

"You've already taken care of dinner. I can handle cab fare," Beth insisted.

The waitress returned with Buck's card and a receipt to sign. Scribbling his name Buck promised, "I'll make this up to you as soon as I can."

"Nonsense. Take care of JD and let me know when he's recovered," Beth's words were both advice and request.

"Thanks darling, you're a saint." With a chaste kiss on Beth's temple Buck was out the door.

* * *

><p>Ezra Standish was totally relaxed. The red wine he was sipping was from a small local winery he had discovered a year ago and since grown quite fond of. Ella Fitzgerald worked her magic in the background with the aid of Ezra's considerable sound system. Soothingly warm water lapped just below his chin with every move he made. It was moments like these that Ezra could admit why he'd really offered such a large down payment on the condo, his first truly permanent home. It wasn't for the trendy, upscale neighborhood, the square footage or even the multiple walk-in closets. It was the bathtub; the double wide, sinfully deep, Jacuzzi bathtub that he was even now luxuriating in. As soon as he'd seen the tub he'd decided to buy the condo, and he hadn't regretted a single penny spent. No matter how stressful or degrading work became he could always eventually return here to his safe haven; washing away the filth, both physical and psychological, and rejuvenate.<p>

Not that today had been all that stressful. Though the team was currently working several cases, none of them had reached the point where his full concentration or skills as an undercover agent were required. Still, Ezra had always admitted to being a man who enjoyed his indulgences, and this tub was one indulgence he took advantage of as often as possible.

As the rather annoying buzz of his cell sounded, a frown slipped across Ezra's face. Given their current caseload it was unlikely to be one of his coworkers, which left Maude as the most probable caller. Good God, he hoped she wasn't calling to announce her imminent arrival. Surrendering to the inevitable, Ezra picked up his cell phone with a rather ungracious, "This had better be important."

"JD's been in an accident," came Nathan's succinct reply.

"What kind of accident?" asked Ezra. The shift from irritated to concerned was instantaneous.

"Vehicle verses pedestrian with suspicious circumstances," Nathan elaborated.

"Was Miss Wells injured," Ezra inquired.

"Casey?" Nathan asked confused.

"JD mentioned planning to meet with Miss Wells after her study group finished," Ezra informed.

"I don't know. When my paramedic buddy stumbled onto JD, he was unconscious missing his wallet, ID and cell phone. Some mysterious Fed was trying to arrest him until the real police arrived and the Fed disappeared. If JD and Casey were together, they didn't finish the night that way," was all Nathan could say. "Chris and Vin are heading to the accident scene. I'm meeting Buck at the hospital. Josiah was going to get started with tracing JD's credit cards and tracking down possible footage of the accident."

"Then I shall join Josiah at the office and focus on finding Miss Wells and tracking down JD's cell phone," said Ezra.

"Like as not, whoever took the cell was smart enough to turn it off," worried Nathan.

"Perhaps, but unless they destroyed it altogether, I should still be able to track it by activating its GPS beacon. JD possessed the test model for the locator beacon I now use in my undercover phone," explained Ezra. "You'll let us know how JD is recovering?"

"As soon as I talk to the doctors," promised Nathan.

"Until then," Ezra ended the call. Already the bathtub was draining and the half finished glass of wine had been discarded. Toweling off quickly, he headed for his closet. Someone had hurt his friend and Ezra was determined to find out whom. Then Team Seven would demand justice, and woe to anyone that tried to get in their way.

* * *

><p>Chris pulled his spare key from the lock as he slipped into Buck and JD's apartment. Despite the jokes Ezra made about their apartment being the equivalent to a lab experiment of the CDC (Center for Disease Control), their place wasn't really filthy. Buck would never convince his lady friends to make return visits if it was. Cluttered was a more accurate description. Shoes lay in a jumble next to the door. One of JD's jackets was tossed haphazardly over a kitchen chair. The basket at the end of the couch that held video game equipment had overflowed, spilling onto the floor. Chris could also see a stack of dishes in the sink, though that was nowhere near overflowing yet. Chris's initial scan did little to either confirm or deny that JD had come home after work. He knew that Buck hadn't been back since this morning (having an early dinner date, Buck opted to bring a change of clothes to work). There were no signs of forced entry or struggle. The expected clutter was no more chaotic than usual. Spotting a flashing red light, Chris tapped the message button on the answering machine.<p>

"JD?" spoke Casey's voice. "I know when you called you said you might be a few minutes late, but it's been more than thirty and I'm freezing my butt off. I tried your cell, but you're not answering." She sighed before continuing. "Annie's offered me a ride home, so if I don't hear from you in another ten minutes I'll likely leave with her. Just call me when you get this so that I know you're okay. Bye."

"Sounds like whatever trouble JD ran into, it happened before his date with Casey," commented Vin.

Though startled, Chris didn't scold his friend for his stealthy entrance. It was part of what made Vin Tanner so damn good at his job. "We'll need to get a hold of her, find out exactly when she talked to him and what he said. Maybe we can nail down the timeline a little firmer."

"Ezra already planned to call her," informed Vin. He knew Ezra would break the news to her more gently than Chris could. "She'll probably want to know which hospital he's at."

Chris nodded his consent. "I'm going to check their gun safe." Because Buck owned rifles as well as handguns, he had purchased a rather large safe years ago. When JD had moved in Buck offered to share his weapons safe as willingly as he'd shared his apartment. Spinning the combination to the numbers Buck had called him with just a short time ago; Chris opened the heavy, reinforced door. Inside he saw Buck's backup handgun as well as both of his rifles. JD's backup piece was also inside next to an antique revolver he'd found at a gun show a couple months back. What Chris didn't see was the gun that JD had worn to work this morning, or the badge that had been clipped to the holster of JD's gun. He remembered JD mentioning that many of Casey's college friends were nervous around cops, so he usually left the gun and badge at home if they were going out in a group. Chris was now fairly certain that JD had never made it home tonight. He closed the safe door and spun the combination lock before heading out. The answers he needed weren't going to be found here. One way or another; Chris was determined to learn who was behind JD's stay at the hospital, and then there would be hell to pay.

* * *

><p>Buck stepped off the elevator, immediately searching for someone that could direct him to JD. Spotting Nathan in conference with an older Asian doctor, he headed their way even as he noticed JD lying vulnerable on a sterile hospital bed just a few feet away.<p>

"Doctor Chia, this is Agent Wilmington. He'll have final say on any medical decisions until JD recovers enough to decide for himself," Nathan explained.

"Very good," greeted Chia. "As I was informing Agent Jackson, your friend was fortunate that the driver saw him in time to at least slow her car, or your friends injuries could have been much worse." Chia paused to let that thought soak in before continuing, "Injuries include significant bruising as well as a fracture to his left femur. We also found considerable bruising to his upper body, face and arms that he apparently received before the car accident. Most worrisome are the multiple blows to the head. One is clearly from the car accident, but MRI confirmed another previous head trauma. At the moment both bleeding and swelling are controlled, but we won't know the full extent of damage until he regains consciousness."

Buck absorbed the information, forcing aside the panicked thoughts of what multiple head traumas could do to his young friend's mind. Worry about JD's recovery would have to wait. Right now Buck's priority had to be JD's safety. "That previous head trauma you mentioned is one of the reasons we'll be setting up protective custody around JD. I'd like to limit access to just yourself and one or two other health care professionals. Agent Jackson and I will guard him at all times."

"You think whoever injured your friend would come after him here in the hospital?" doubted Chia.

"I know that despite his youth JD is a well trained and level-headed agent, yet he deemed whoever was chasing him to be more of a threat than oncoming traffic. Hell, we've got witness statements that claim someone tried to drag him away from the accident scene despite a crowd of onlookers. I'm not about to risk his life on the hope that whoever did this has finally decided to give up," Buck insisted roughly.

Nodding in acknowledgement of Buck's concern, Dr. Chia conceded, "I'll arrange for Nurse Bandy to handle his care. He can be moved to a private room as soon as casting of his leg is complete." Making a few notes in JD's chart the doctor moved away.

"I don't suppose," asked Buck turning to Nathan, "that your friend Aaron was able to wait around so I could talk to him?"

"No," replied Nathan. "He and his partner were called out again shortly after I arrived. But one of the officers on the scene is still here." Nathan pointed out the uniform standing a few yards away talking into a cell phone.

Noticing he'd become the focus of two ATF agents, the officer ended his call and joined them. "I'm officer Hallenbrook," he extended his hand. "Aaron said the victim was one of yours, maybe working undercover," the last few words held the lilt of a question as the officer sought to confirm what he'd been told.

"JD is definitely ours," asserted Nathan.

"What's got us a bit confused," picked up Buck, "is that he wasn't supposed to be working undercover tonight. He was supposed to be driving home to get ready for a date with his girl. Instead he ended up in the wrong part of town, no motorcycle, no badge and no gun. When you arrived on the scene did you happen to get a look at the badge being waved around by the fellow claiming to be a Fed?"

"You think the badge was actually JD's," surmised Hallenbrook.

"Well, the doctor essentially confirmed that JD was beaten well before he stumbled into traffic. It makes sense that whoever beat him would have taken his gun and badge," confirmed Buck.

"Sorry," Hallenbrook apologized. "He'd tucked the badge away by the time we got out of our patrol car. Claimed your friend was a suspect in a federal case, but didn't try to pull rank on us like he did with Aaron. He hung around the perimeter of the scene for maybe five minutes before he disappeared. However, there was one thing that caught my radar. Just before he disappeared he was talking to a thug that sometimes goes by the name 'Trey Hunter'. Rumor has Hunter dealing both drugs and guns, but so far we haven't been able to arrest him. He's about 5'10", 160 lbs, dark brown skin, shaved head and he seems partial to a black leather jacket, diamond stud earrings and cigarettes."

"Could you give us a description for the pseudo-fed too?" asked Nathan.

"6'1" maybe 6'2", closer to 180 lbs, fair skin, light brown hair, pale eyes, but I'm not sure if they were blue or green. He was dressed the part of a Fed with a suit and tie. Didn't see any other noticeable scars, birthmarks or tattoos," detailed the policeman. "My partner, Randolph stayed at the scene to gather up any footage nearby security cameras may have caught."

"We certainly appreciate the extra help." Buck was a bit surprised at the additional effort being offered.

"Randolph had a cousin killed while working undercover vice in L.A.," explained Hallenbrook. "When Aaron explained what was going on with your friend, Randolph took it personal." Hallenbrook offered both men cards with his contact information. "If there's anything else we can do to help, just call." With that Hallenbrook excused himself.

"Looks like they're almost done with JD's cast," commented Nathan. Critical eyes studied the attendant as he finished working on JD's injured leg. "I'm going to find out which room they're planning to move him to."

Buck nodded absently eyes still locked on his young roommate. His feet moved to JD's bedside of their own accord. Taking a deep breath Buck did his own assessment of JD's condition. There was no breathing tube, which Buck took to be a good sign. Leads attached to monitors tracked JD's heart rate and breathing, and the single IV was likely for keeping him hydrated. Buck seemed to remember doctors preferred to avoid drugs when head injuries were involved, but Nathan would know for sure. The right side of JD's face was dominated by a nasty case of road rash that filtered out from under the bandage at his temple down to the curve of his jaw. Buck also noticed the bruising around both of JD's wrists: a clear indicator that he'd been bound at some point; but pushed aside the anger it brought. Rage would do him no good here and now; it wasn't what the kid needed.

On JD's other side the attendant packed up his supplies, finished with the leg cast. Buck snatched the newly vacant chair and rolled it up beside his friend. "So partner, are you about ready to wake up and tell me what the hell kind of mess you got yourself into this time?" Buck's question was greeted with unnatural silence from the man on the bed. "Come on now," Buck pleaded, rubbing JD's uninjured shoulder, "JD you've got to wake up and give us a clue. The whole team is out right now chasing their tails, trying to figure out what happened to you." Again there was no response, not even a nominal twitch on one of the monitors. Buck was slammed with an overwhelming sense of wrong. This still form couldn't be JD. JD was always in motion; bouncing, talking, racing, bragging. Even in sleep if he wasn't tossing and turning, he was mumbling incomprehensibly into his pillow.

The arrival of a nurse who began checking the monitors and taking notes caused Buck to lower his voice. "Hell kid, right now I'd be happy to hear you say, 'Shut up Buck, you're full of crap.'" He tried to suppress how much JD's continuous quiet unnerved him.

Taking pity on Buck, the nurse offered, "His vitals have improved since he was first brought in."

Buck smiled at the middle-aged woman, recognizing the kindness for what it was. Once she'd walked away he continued. "Well kid, I recon you're right. You've been through enough already. I shouldn't be pestering you." Lightly brushing the hair away from JD's forehead Buck added, "You just rest. The boys and I'll take care of things until you're up and at 'em."

Several moments of stillness passed before Nathan and an orderly joined them. "JD is going to have a room on the eighth floor. It's at the end of the hall so we won't have to worry about too much foot traffic. I'd like to get him move there now." Nathan wasn't worried solely about JD's medical condition; right now their location was way too exposed. He wanted JD somewhere they could control access and better protect their friend.

Buck got up and stepped back to let the orderly do his job, but even as the bed began to roll towards the elevator Buck stayed close. He wasn't going to leave JD alone until those responsible for his condition were caught and the threat was eliminated.


	2. Following the trail

Though all of the lights were on in the bullpen only one form moved about the office. Josiah had already used JD's much better computer and video set up to tap into the surveillance cameras in the parking garage and verify the time JD left work this evening. He'd also received a call from Officer Randolph saying that he'd be dropping off some store surveillance footage. Hopefully it would give them a better idea of what happened during and after the accident. Josiah had just cleared the request to have JD's credit cards and bank accounts monitored. Though he would have preferred to be working in the field instead of chained to a desk, he knew someone had to man the phones and work the paper trail. At least here he could be sure to get updates from the others as new information developed.

"Where are we in tracking JD's movements?" asked Ezra as he stepped briskly down the aisle to his own desk, pausing just a moment to deposit a warm coffee with Josiah.

Raising the cup in thanks Josiah informed, "I've confirmed via garage surveillance that JD left at 5:18 pm this evening. There hasn't been any movement on his credit cards, but there was one debit purchase at 5:44 pm; the Clark gas station. It's only two miles from the accident scene, but nowhere near JD's usual route home."

"I seem to remember at least two significant rush hour accidents that could have necessitated a detour on JD's part." As Ezra spoke he also let his fingers dance across the computer keyboard as he accessed and activated the prototype GPS in JD's cell phone.

"I thought only your work cell had that," murmured Josiah when he noticed what Ezra was doing.

"JD received the first version to test its reliability. It uses a secondary battery separate from the rest of the phone so that it may be activated even if the cell's main battery is drained or turned off. Unfortunately the smaller battery means a weaker signal. It may take a bit longer than usual to triangulate its exact location," explained Ezra. "In the interim, I will contact young Miss Wells. According to Vin she left a message on JD's answering machine implying that he'd never arrived for their date, while referencing an earlier conversation. I'm hoping she can enlighten us as to why JD had traveled so far from his normal route."

As Ezra dialed the home phone number of the Wells' house, one of the other office lines began to ring. Josiah snatched it up with a brusque, "Agent Sanchez." The short pause brought a slight grin to Josiah's face. "Excellent! I'll be right down." Dropping the receiver in its cradle, Josiah explained, "The surveillance footage has arrived. I'll be right back." The profiler was already passing the doorway as the last words were spoken.

Meanwhile Ezra waited patiently for someone to answer the ring of his call.

"If you're calling this late at night it had better be darn important," came Nettie Wells gruff greeting.

"I apologize if I interrupted your no doubt well deserved slumber," began Ezra, "but I'm afraid it's rather urgent that I speak with Casey as soon as possible. Would you happen to know if she's home?"

Nettie sighed. "Yes, she's home, and a bit peeved at JD for standing her up though I took most of her squawking to be bluster to cover her worry. If you're calling Fancy Pants, I'm guessing that worry wasn't misplaced."

"No it wasn't," confirmed Ezra. "Details are still sketchy, but JD was in a rather serious accident this evening: he was hit by a car. I was hoping that Casey might be able to clarify some of the events that led to the incident in question."

"Damn," whispered Nettie. "How bad is the boy hurt? It's best I know up front so I can help Casey through this." Her insistence forestalled any protest.

"A broken leg and head trauma are the worst of his injuries. When I last spoke with Nathan, twenty minutes ago, JD still had not regained consciousness. Denver General probably won't allow visitors until morning," shared Ezra.

"Alright," said Nettie. "Give me a minute to break the news to her. Then I'll put her on so she can tell you what she knows." The tap of a phone being set down didn't require a response.

Though Ezra seldom considered himself a coward, he was relieved that Nettie had taken the unpleasant task of giving Casey the bad news. Some might consider him skilled at dealing with distraught females, but that didn't mean he enjoyed doing so. It was hard enough listening to Casey's cry of denial turn into broken sobs when confronted with Nettie's gruff yet gentle tones.

Two minutes passed before Casey picked up the phone. "Aunt Nettie said you wanted to talk to me." Casey's voice wavered only a hint as she spoke.

"Yes, my dear," began Ezra in his most soothing voice. "It's very important that you tell me everything you can remember about your conversation with JD earlier this evening. I believe he called you after work," Ezra prompted.

"Yeah, he, um, he called at about quarter to six. He said he'd stopped at a gas station so he could fill up and let me know he was running late. We were supposed to meet at six, after my study group, but an overturned semi on 6th Avenue had forced him to take a major detour and he figured it would be closer to 6:20 before he could get to campus. I told him it was no big deal. My study group had gotten caught up in a big debate about the motives of key players in the Alamo and we likely wouldn't finish up until after six anyway," said Casey.

Ezra made several notes about the conversation before asking, "Did JD say anything else?"

"No . . . actually that was probably the oddest part of the conversation," she admitted. "I asked him where he might like to eat tonight; mentioned a couple different places, but JD totally spaced on me; didn't acknowledge a word I said. When I asked him if he was even listening, he just said, "Sorry Casey, I've got to go now," and hung up on me. I figured he was just in a bad mood because of traffic, but then he never came to pick me up and when I couldn't reach him I started to worry. But JD's going to be alright, right?"

Ezra mustered as much confidence as he could before replying, "Of course. I can't even contemplate any other outcome. JD is young and healthy and I have no doubt that after the appropriate amount of recovery time he will be back to his usual energetic self."

"Right, you're right of course," agreed Casey in a reassured tone.

"Might I suggest getting a good night's rest? So that you'll be able to visit JD in the morning as soon as visiting hours start," offered Ezra. "You've already been a great help with the investigation, but now it's JD who will need your future assistance."

"Okay, you're probably right again. Thanks for calling, Ezra," Casey ended the call.

Ezra wondered why Casey would thank him for calling with such horrible news. Maybe her manners were so ingrained it came automatically or perhaps she was really thanking him for the confident words he'd uttered for JD's certain recovery. Of course much of that confidence had been exaggerated but Casey didn't need to know that.

Ezra dialed Vin's cell number to share what he'd learned.

Across town Vin picked up the call, "What have you got for me?"

"I'm texting you the address of the gas station JD stopped at. If Casey's description of their conversation was accurate, JD's trouble may have started there. I'm also sending the location for his cell signal. I'm afraid it's far from pin point," admitted Ezra. "There seems to be interference that the signal is too weak to completely break through, but you should be at least within a one block radius of it. The handheld tracker may be able to help you narrow down the cell's exact location."

"Yeah, I've got the handheld with me. We're about to check out the alley. It hasn't rained and police kept it taped off so maybe we'll find something," Vin shared.

"I shall assist Josiah in weeding through surveillance. You haven't, by chance, heard anything new about JD, have you?" Ezra's attempt at nonchalance was less than successful against someone who knew him so well.

"Buck called Chris just a few minutes ago to let us know that JD's been moved to a private room and his vitals have improved," Vin updated.

"Excellent," said Ezra, relief leaking into his voice despite his best efforts. Moving back to more practical concerns he continued, "I'll be sure to let you know when we find something new."

"Same here," agreed Vin. "Good hunting."

*7*7*7*7*7*7*7*

Chris slowly swept the beam of his flashlight across the dark alley zeroing in on some scuff marks that indicated movement near the dumpster.

"Not much to help us by the street," informed Vin as he joined his boss. "None of the footprints are clear enough to tell us which are JD's"

"I think someone injured was hiding behind this dumpster." Chris' flashlight lit several dark smears and splatters. "Looks like a blood trail"

Vin signaled one of the crime scene techs to join them. "We've got blood evidence and I think I see a partial print in the blood on the dumpster." Chris and Vin stepped back to allow the CSI a closer look.

"It's a little smeared," assessed the investigator, "but I might be able to lift a thumb print from it." Motioning to a coworker further down the alley, he added, "Lydia found some evidence you might find interesting."

Vin easily spotted the petite yet shapely CSI carefully transferring a small item into an evidence bag. "Let's check it out," suggested the tracker, eager for any clue that might lead them to JD's attackers.

Noticing their approach, Lydia sealed the bag and mentally prepared the verbal report Chris was sure to ask for. As one of the few people who had been favored by a true Larabee smile, Lydia found his current tension-fill scowl disheartening. Word had already passed that one of the Seven had been seriously injured. The Denver law enforcement community all wanted justice for JD, especially those who knew him personally.

For Lydia, it was also a chance to repay the debt she owed Larabee. A while back Chris had helped Lydia escape an abusive relationship with a pig by the name of Wicks, accepting only thanks in return. Though it was tempting to rush forward with offers of emotional support for the handsome man, Lydia knew that was the last thing her sometimes lover would want. Their no-strings-attached relationship was based on mutual attraction and mutual respect; framed by a professionalism that kept their unions out of the office gossip. It was that professionalism that Chris needed from her now, to focus her skills and help gather the evidence that would lead to JD's attackers. Still, all the professionalism in the world wouldn't change the fact that this particular crime struck too close to home. This time the victim was a friend not a stranger. As Chris and his partner, Vin, stopped beside her, Lydia spoke, "Annie wanted you to know she'd be praying for JD."

Chris nodded, having already heard similar statements from others. He only knew Annie enough to nod in passing, but he was aware that the curly blonde lab tech was JD's friend. Not long ago she had helped JD run a con on Buck and Josiah that had completely bamboozled the two, even earning a compliment from Ezra. When JD recovered, Chris would let the kid know he'd been in Annie's thoughts. "What have you found so far?"

"We know JD didn't get into the alley through either of these two doors on the east. The door on the west side of the alley shows a lot of recent traffic; footprints, a few blood splatters, a lot more activity then we'd expect from an empty building in foreclosure. But our best find may be this little gem." Lydia held up the recently sealed evidence bag holding a cigarette butt. "The rest of the cigarettes and trash in this alley are saturated from this afternoon's rain. The dry condition of this butt indicates it was dropped here after the rain had stopped; within an hour of JD's collision, possibly by one of his pursuers."

"You'll be able to get DNA from it?" Chris insisted on confirmation.

Lydia knew even Larabee couldn't bend the laws of science to his will. "Hopefully. The ash I found with it indicates it was dropped shortly after being lit, and then allowed to burn down to the filter. If we're lucky, enough saliva transferred to give us a workable DNA sample, but I won't know until we get it back to the lab."

"What about the building you think JD came out of?" asked Vin.

"I dusted the door for prints, but we've been waiting to get the building secured before we started investigated inside," Lydia explained.

Chris had barely raised his eyebrow when Vin un-holstered his weapon and approached the door in question. "Let's get going then," said Vin eager to take a more active role in the investigation.

When Chris noticed Lydia had also pulled her gun he instructed, "Wait here until Vin and I have cleared the building of any potential threats."

"I know how to take care of myself," Lydia insisted. "I can help."

"Until we have a better idea who's behind this and why, I'd rather you focus on what you do best: working the evidence," Chris countered firmly. "You're staying here until Vin and I give the all clear."

"Fine," Lydia conceded when she realized Chris wouldn't be swayed.

Vin stepped to the side of the door. His white-gloved hand paused to verify Chris' readiness before turning the knob and swinging the door open.

Chris darted through the doorway, his gun and flashlight sweeping the room in unison, scanning for any sign of life. With Vin taking up a flanking position, they quickly cleared the abandoned back office and store front. The few doors led to a bathroom and storage closet. Only the scuff marks on the dust covered stairwell signaled recent passage. Vin led the pair upstairs. Their search of the second floor yielded little more than the paint splatters and discarded canvas of a long vacant art studio.

Halfway up the stairs between the second and third floor was more revealing. Vin found scuffed woodwork, disturbed dust and a small smear of blood indicating that someone, likely JD, had fallen in their haste to flee the upper level.

The third floor was an apartment, sparsely furnished but still in use despite the buildings foreclosed status. A lone kitchen chair was prominently settled in the middle of the room with a light spray of red arched out from the chair in several directions. Blood-coated bindings still dangled from its frame.

Chris knew this was the place where JD had been held and beaten. Taking a moment to rein in his anger, Chris continued to skirt the edge of the room cautiously stepping around evidence and checking every room, closet, and corner until the entire top floor had been secured.

"Clear," Vin spoke out loud for the first time since entering the building. Chris responded in kind, while the tracker carefully crouched a few feet from the chair to examine its story. "Good job JD," Vin murmured eyeing the way the bindings had been sawed against a broken back brace of the chair. It had likely taken a long time to work the cords to the breaking point, especially having to do it without drawing attention. "They had to have left him alone, even if only for a few seconds," decided Vin, seeing far more in scuffs and spots on the floor than Chris could decipher. "Our bad guys came running out of here," Vin motioned to the bedroom just past the kitchen. "I bet they didn't even realize he'd escaped until he fell on his way down the stairs."

"Makes sense," agreed Chris. When it came to tracking his money was always on Tanner. Chris punched a couple numbers on his speed dial, only to be surprised when the answering ring echoed from the stairwell.

"I'll be up as soon as I'm done photographing the stairs," shouted Lydia from just a short distance below.

Chris shot a withering glance at a chuckling Vin. "You didn't wait for the all clear," Chris pointed out sternly, as Lydia made it up the last few stairs.

"Oh, don't give me that look," Lydia tossed back, un-intimidated. "After all this time without any gunfire, either someone had managed to get the drop on both of you, an unlikely scenario at best, or you'd found something. Either way, I've got a crime scene to process." Taking stock of the room with a trained eye, Lydia set down her equipment and radioed her coworker. "Martin, has Kyle arrived yet?"

"Yeah, we're just finishing up in the alley," replied the voice of the CSI they had talked to earlier.

"Good, I'm going to need some help gathering evidence up on the third floor," informed Lydia.

Acknowledging that the crime scene was now Lydia's to control, Chris and Vin stepped out of the apartment. "Ready to see if we can trace the location of JD's missing cell phone?" asked Vin. With simply a nod in reply, the two headed down the stairs with new purpose.

* * *

><p>"Hey, Rain. How's it going?" asked Nathan in a smooth, deep tone the ATF medic reserved for his wife.<p>

Hitting the rewind on his memory, Buck realized that he hadn't even consciously acknowledged the Iris ring tone of Nathan's cell. Accepting that he needed a minor break, Buck shifted in his seat, momentarily pulling his focus away from JD. A full body stretch lead to several cracks and pops, especially in his back, and a raised eyebrow from Nathan, who continued to converse with his wife. Buck resisted the temptation to get up and pace, instead turning the chair so he could stretch his legs more fully. While not the most uncomfortable chair he'd ever sat in, the hospital's offering simply wasn't designed for a man of his size.

It probably didn't help that Buck was tense and frustrated from waiting for JD to wake up. Nathan had already assured Buck that JD's vitals were slowly but steadily improving. Even Dr. Chia said he was 'cautiously optimistic' that JD had shown none of the signs of a more serious brain injury and would likely wake on his own soon. 'Soon' just wasn't soon enough, as far as Buck was concerned.

"That sounds great, Baby. See you in a bit," said Nathan, ending the call with a dopey grin still on his face.

It was a sure sign of Buck's worried state that he couldn't even work up the motivation to tease Nathan about how whipped he was. Not that Buck didn't like Rain, he thought she was a great match for Nathan, as well as an extraordinary woman in her own right. Nathan had a tendency to make snap decisions, a great trait for a medic, but not nearly so helpful in personal relationships. He also saw the world from a rather ridged, right or wrong point of view; useful for a law enforcement official, but again not so helpful on a personal level. Fortunately, Rain had a way of, with just a few words or a question, making Nathan totally reevaluate his stance and look at situations from a new perspective.

Buck also loved that Rain was as much of a romantic as him. She'd been his willing co-conspirator for the weeks it took to get JD and Casey to see the light. It still tickled Buck's funny bone that Rain had actually tried to set Nathan up with one of her friends before realizing that she would do better to keep Nathan for herself.

"What are you grinning at?" asked Nathan a tad suspiciously, perhaps expecting the ribbing Buck had already decided against.

"Just the thought of seeing that lovely wife of yours. Is she bringing food with her?" The small appetizer Buck had managed to eat before being interrupted simply wasn't enough to keep a fellow going for long.

"Yeah, she got called down to the ER for one of her patients and figured she could bring us some grub now that she's done." Nathan ignored the flirtatious comment Buck had aimed at his wife; supremely confident in Rain's ability to resist Buck's charms.

* * *

><p>JD felt disconnected; a bit like he was floating. He could hear voices, familiar voices that made him feel safe and protected even though, at that particular moment, he couldn't have said who the voices belonged to. As he continued to float in his comfortable haze, other thoughts and emotions slowly began to present themselves. The first was surprise that his headache seemed to have receded enough for him to at least string a few thoughts together. He also noticed that several new aches had joined the one in his head. The most prominent of these was his leg, which throbbed and felt strangely heavy.<p>

As the voices continued, JD was finally able to connect them with names. Buck's name came first; and JD hesitated only a moment before deciding that Nathan's voice must be the second. Initially, JD wonder what Nathan was doing at the apartment he shared with Buck, but as the background noise also became identifiable, he realized that he was in a hospital, which in turn explained all of the aches and pains he was feeling. Okay, so somehow he'd been hurt, but how? The last thing the young agent could remember was leaving work to go pick up Casey. There had been a horrible traffic snarl thanks to several accidents that had put him both off course and behind schedule. He remembered stopping for gas and calling Casey to let her know about the delay. Then he'd been spotted by Trey Hunter and Roberto "Slick" Martinez, two of the less than law abiding contacts he'd met during a recent undercover operation. Out of simple self-preservation, JD had decided it best to drop back into his cover persona. Upon first speaking to them, Hunter had seemed friendly enough, and Slick had been downright eager to renew his acquaintance with 'Jonny D', as he knew JD; so eager that Slick had insisted that Jonny D join them for a meeting with another business associate just down the block. Slick had rambled on about how the guy they were going to meet was some uppity pick that needed to be reminded that he wasn't the only game in town; something Jonny D could do with his mere presence. JD had been unable to produce a quick lie to extract himself without blowing his cover. There was also the matter of Slick's 'associate'. Could JD call himself a good agent if he passed up this opportunity to learn more about Slick's criminal connections? The way Slick and Hunter flanked the agent made it impossible for JD to call or even text anyone on the Team, but he mentally promised he'd make a full report to Chris the second he was clear.

Then JD's memories began to get a bit more jumbled. There was an abandoned shop, stairs, an expensive suit, getting hit, tied down and hit again, loud arguing voices out of sight but too close for comfort. His most vivid memory was the wash of relief that surged through him when the old twine binding his wrists broke from his constant sawing motions. The journey out of his prison was a blank, though he did remember hiding in the alley, being spotted by Hunter, fleeing to the street, then a screech of tires and a blinding light from his periphery. Had he been hit by a car? Or possibly a truck? He certainly hurt enough for it to have been a truck.

A low hoarse groan reverberated through JD's skull; though it still took him a moment to realize that he was the one that was moaning. He tried for something more articulate like 'what happened?' but that came out as nothing more than a mumbled grunt.

"JD, can you hear me?" entreated Buck. "Nathan and I are right here waiting for you to wake up. Come on JD we know you can do it."

_Good old Buck_, thought JD, _always there when you needed him_. Despite all of his aches and pains JD felt surprisingly comfortable knowing that his 'family' was nearby. It was such a relief to know he was finally safe. Yet even as that thought reassured, JD wondered at its validity. Hadn't there been something more than just himself that he'd been worried about? Some danger that he needed to warn his team about? He struggled to sort through his fragmented memories for several moments before a clue floated to the surface. _'Think you idiot,' growled a vicious voice, 'if he's a Fed than so is his partner. We'll need to eliminate both of them. I'm not going to risk having Standish or the rest of the Seven after me just because you were stupid enough to trust the kid.'_ That was it! The people after him were targeting Ezra too. JD needed to warn Ezra and the rest of the team, except this time when JD tried to speak he couldn't seem to get much more than a whimper past his dry throat and mostly numb tongue.

"Easy, JD," soothed Buck's voice beside his ear. "Take your time. Why don't you try to open those puppy dog eyes of yours before you start rambling off some speech to congress?" JD tried to follow Buck's instructions, but who'd have thought lifting two small eyelids would be so painful and strenuous? After a few attempts he finally succeeded in lifting his lids enough to squint at the florescent light that filled the room. Several more seconds passed before the brown and peach blobs floating above him cleared to reveal Nathan and Buck's worried face. "How about a little bit of water?" Buck offered holding up a cup with a straw.

JD didn't bother trying to reply; simply opening his mouth in silent plea, which Buck answered by fitting the straw between JD's lips. The cool refreshing sweetness made him wonder why he'd never before realized that water was the true nectar of the swallows later and he was finally able to offer a weak, "Thanks."

Buck returned with a relieved, "Sure thing, kid."

Nathan moved forward to help ease some of JD's confusion. "JD, you were in an accident; hit by an SUV. Your leg is broken, but it was a clean break and has already been cast. You also got a lot of other scrapes and bruises but our biggest concern is your head injury. Do you think you could answer a couple of questions for me?"

JD started to nod, but immediately grimaced in pain that the movement cause and gasped, "Yeah."

"Do you remember what day it is?" asked Nathan.

"Thursday the 16th," mumbled JD after a yawn. He knew he'd only just woken up, but already exhaustion was overwhelming him. He also had the nagging feeling that he had something else he needed to tell his team about; something important.

"Can you tell me where you are?" queried Nathan.

"Hospital," sighed JD, "not sure which one."

"And could you tell me my name, and the name of our friend here?" Nathan motioned to Buck next to him.

"Buck and Nathan," JD replied. After a moment it occurred to him that he'd given the right names in the wrong order so he clarified. "You're Nathan and he's Buck." JD pointed to his roommate to confirm his statement.

The ATF field medic was pleased with JD's responses. He may have been off by one day, still thinking it was yesterday, but considering his concussion and how long he'd been unconscious the response was perfectly acceptable. Nathan decided to broach their investigation with his next question. "JD, do you remember what happened to you after you left work last night?" When JD's only response was silent confusion, Nathan prompted, "You'd been forced to take a detour because of a couple of accidents. We know that you stopped to get gas and called Casey to let her know you were going to be late."

Nathan's words helped a bit. JD remembered calling Casey, glad to hear she wasn't upset with his delay. Then he'd noticed two vaguely familiar faces coming towards him. "Trey Hunter and Slick Lyshe!" JD gasped in shocked remembrance. "From the gun tracking case out of Montana a couple months back. We thought they were the local distributors but were couldn't get enough solid evidence to justify a warrant. They cornered me at the gas station; wanted to talk about doing a deal. Said they were tired of getting screwed by their current supplier."

"So you just wandered off with them?" interrupted Buck incredulously. "Even though you had no backup and no one knew what you were doing?"

"I tried to extract myself," defended JD, "but Slick was excited: said they were going to meet their information guy, and I thought joining them might be enough to give the case a little forward momentum." Buck cursed his disapproval but JD kept talking, afraid that if he didn't his revelation would once again be forgotten thanks to his concussion. "But their information guy wasn't just some other street punk. He was a federal agent. I don't remember his name but he knew mine." Taking a moment to focus past the pounding in his skull, JD added, "We worked with him over a year ago when we were out by Eagle Bend."

"You mean the joint Task Force with all the DEA and FBI agents running around?" asked Buck.

"Yeah," confirmed JD, though exhaustion was starting to slur his words, "burned Ezra's cover too." JD barely got the last words out before darkness descended, pulling him back into Morpheus' embrace. JD wasn't worried though; now that he'd warned his team he knew that he could sleep safely.

**To be continued . . .**

** Please review, I'd love to hear what you think.**


	3. Trail's end

"Yes I recall the case, Nathan," Ezra confirmed. "When it was clear that the weapons supply had dried up and we weren't going to be able to get any more evidence, Mr. Larabee opted to put the investigation on hold while preserving our covers."

"Well, according to JD, those covers are worthless now," warned Nathan.

"True," agreed Ezra, not really regretting the loss of the small time gun dealer whose role he'd played for a while. "But the real question is, who is the Federal Agent that so callously threw young mister Dunne into the fire pit? As I recall, there were a plethora of FBI and DEA agents involved in the Eagle Bend Task force. Narrowing down the suspect list to determine our culprit won't be easy, and I doubt either of our sister agencies will appreciate our investigation into the ethical fiber of their agents. Was Mister Dunne able to offer us any further clues?"

"He couldn't remember the agent's name," said Nathan. "It's possible that he might remember more the next time he wakes up. Honestly, he barely got out that an agent was involved before he lost consciousness again. We're lucky we have as much information as we do considering how badly he was hurt. Hopefully he'll remember more later. Until then Buck and I will stay on protective duty; make sure none of these scumbags get the chance to finish what they started."

"Well, I can at least assist you by sending you the surveillance photos we gathered while trying to entrap Misters Hunter and Lyshe. Mr. Larabee will soon receive a text of the address where Hunter lived, at least as of three months ago. Mr. Sanchez and myself will investigate the agents involved in the Eagle Bend task force," Ezra summarized. He wanted to make sure he wasn't missing any angles. This case was too important, JD was too important.

At the desk next to Ezra, Josiah realized the conversation was coming to a close so he raised his voice to add, "Be sure to let brother JD know that he is in our thoughts and prayers."

Miles away in the hospital Nathan smiled at Josiah's command. "I'll do that," he promised before again turning solemn. "We need to find the Fed that's behind this. . ."

"And ensure he can never harm JD again," Ezra finished Nathan's thought.

"You need to keep an eye out yourself," warned Nathan. "Don't forget your cover was burned too."

Ezra had spent too many years under the tutelage of Maude not to have already considered the risk to his person. But with JD vulnerably unconscious at the hospital while Ezra was safely within the protection of the Federal Building, he really hadn't expected the others to waste too much concern on him. That Nathan thought enough to mention his worries reminded Ezra again how fortunate he was to be out of the FBI and on a team he could count on to watch his back. "Our understanding of what happened thus far indicates that JD's attack was an impulsive act of opportunity," Ezra pointed out, "which makes it far less likely that our perpetrators will seek out another confrontation, even if they did know where I was."

"That may be," conceded Nathan, "But it won't hurt anything if you stick close to Josiah until we've got these guys."

"Your concern is noted," said Ezra, "I promise to be appropriately diligent regarding my self preservation." Noticing a flashing light on his phone consol he explained, "I've got another call coming in. I'll inform you if we develop any new leads." It took just seconds to transfer to the new call. "Agent Standish speaking," Ezra greeted.

"Agent Standish, this is Joshua with Brinks security. We have a silent alarm going off at your home residence and we wanted to verify that everything is all right."

"No everything is not all right," Ezra informed the security person, a small corner of his mind wondering if perhaps Nathan was psychic. "We need to dispatch police immediately. They should approach the condo with extreme caution. One of my coworkers was brutally attacked less than twenty-four hours ago and I do not believe in coincidence." Minutes passed as Ezra and the responding officers relayed information back and forth through Joshua. The officers arrived at Ezra's condo four minutes after the silent alarm went off, but the residence was empty. Only an open door, a forgotten wallet holding Lyshe's ID, and a partially smoked cigarette indicated the violation of Ezra's sanctuary. He was ending the call with the Bricks security man and considering an upgrade to security cameras when he heard Josiah say his name.

"You can rest assured Chris," boomed Josiah, "our Ezra won't be able to go to the bathroom without me at his side. I'll protect him until the threat is over."

Ezra grimaced at the thought of Josiah smiling benevolently down at him from the next urinal over. He didn't like it when the others on his team hovered, but with JD already injured he knew there would be no way to sway them, so he focused on gathering all the information available on the FBI and DEA agents involved in the Eagle Bend task force. The sooner they rooted out the traitorous agent behind JD's attack, the better it would be for everyone.

* * *

><p>Vin and Chris stalked down the street with a determined aura and a predatory grace that had most of the slum's regular inhabitants scurrying for cover. Dangerous on a good day, no one wanted to mess with the obviously lethal strangers. Others might have relaxed, perhaps reined in the intensity level upon hearing that their youngest had woken and seemed on the road to recovery, but neither Vin nor Chris intended to ease their hunt until every threat to JD had been eliminated.<p>

So it was that they found themselves climbing the crumbling steps to a spray painted brown stone apartment. Buck's update of JD's brief return to consciousness combined with Ezra's text lead them to what was hopefully the current address of one Trey Hunter. They were half way up to the second story apartment Hunter was supposed to rent when Chris's cell buzzed for his attention. Checking the caller ID, he paused in his climb to answer, "Larabee . . . Where? . . . We're just a few blocks away but we need to check an address first. Can you secure the site and call in the CSIs? . . Good." Turning to Vin, Chris murmured, "Got a response to the APB on JD's bike. It's in an alley behind a dumpster just two blocks from here."

"Think they came back home after they dumped the bike?" queried Vin as he pull out his service weapon.

"Only one way to find out," answered Chris likewise readying a weapon as a frightening grin swept his face. Chris led the way up the remainder of the stairs, down the hall to 204 where they flanked the entrance. Once Chris received a nod of readiness from Vin, he raised his fist to pound heavily on the door. "Trey Hunter, this is the ATF. Open up!" While rude demands for entrance were seldom met with cheery welcomes, the utter silence that answered from within the apartment was not what they were hoping for. When a repeated demand brought more silence Chris tested the doorknob. Surprised when it turned easily under his hand, the agent in black hesitated only the moment it took to signal to Vin before launching himself into the room. It took less than ten seconds to verify that the tiny apartment was vacant of anyone able to put up a fight. A quick glance verified that the bodies on the floor were Trey Hunter and his partner 'Slick' Lyshe. Relief that two of the treats to JD were gone was overwhelmed by the certainty that the sole remaining threat had become much more immediate. "You know what this means?" Chris's question was half statement.

From his position kneeling next to the bodies Vin nodded, "Our mystery Fed is cleaning house, eliminating any witnesses." After verifying neither body carried a pulse Vin stood. "JD's the only witness left." Having noted that the bodies were a bit cooler than expected he checked their rigidity. "Chris I'm pretty sure these bodies are already in rigor mortis. If I'm right that means they were dead before Ezra's condo was broken into. The wallet and cigarette were planted."

At first glance the scene indicated that Hunter and Lyshe had fought and killed each other but Chris's gut told him that the dirty fed helped their deaths along. Still he would need the CSIs and some solid forensic evidence to prove his theory right. "You call the bodies in. I'll get a hold of Buck and Nathan. They need to know what's heading their way," Chris was hitting speed dial before he'd finished speaking.

* * *

><p>Casey gathered up her purse and care package before getting out of the car. Buck had called early this morning to let her know that JD had woken up and seemed to be pretty aware for at least a little while. The doctor was pleased with his progress and allowing visitors. Casey had been so eager to visit JD that she'd been showered and dressed a full hour and a half before visiting hours started. Aunt Nettie had slowed her down by reminding her that arriving early would only lead to a long wait. Then she'd suggested they make use of Casey's extra time by putting together a care package so JD would have something to keep him occupied during his hospital stay. Casey quickly thought of the gameboy that JD had forgotten in her car one afternoon. She gathered a new Sudoku book she hadn't gotten the chance to start yet and one of her western novels that JD had expressed an interest in. She even ran down to the corner market to pick up the latest issues of several magazines, believing that sports, science and computers were the most likely to hold his interest. Casey had been feeling pretty pleased with the selections she'd made for JD, at least until she saw Aunt Nettie's additions to the package. Nettie had wrapped a dozen of her blueberry-bran muffins that JD had praised a few weeks back and also included her award winning (it took 2nd place at the Colorado state fair a few years back) apple pie. Deciding that it just wasn't worth trying to compete with Nettie on the food front, Casey carefully packed all of the items into a tote bag and headed off to the hospital with just a few minutes to spare.<p>

Taking a moment to recheck the instructions Buck had given her, comparing them to the hospital map on the board before her, Casey identified the correct elevator and headed off to find JD; determined to provide whatever he needed to recover; and hopefully in the process show JD that she had what it took to stick it out as the wife of federal agent. Many of Casey's friends thought she was crazy to even date JD, but the truth was Casey loved him; and despite all the nightmares she'd suffered through last night, even the ones when she'd woken in tears in her certainty that JD had died while she slept, Casey still wanted to spend the rest of her life with him. If JD wanted that too (and the young man's suggestion that the two of them buy a ranch once she was finished with college indicated he did), then she was going to fight for it. She'd be damned before she'd let her fears about her boyfriend's profession choose whom she would grow old with.

* * *

><p>Nathan knocked forcefully against the hospital room's bathroom door hoping to hear a response over the spray of the shower.<p>

Inside the too-small shower Buck bent his head to rinse out the last of the shampoo before poking his head out the shower curtain with a, "Yeah, what do you need?"

"I wanted to catch JD's doctor before he started rounds; now is likely the best chance I'll have to talk to him in the next few hours. The plainclothes officer that Denver PD sent over is just outside the door, so you can finish your shower. I just wanted you to know I'd be gone for a bit," Nathan explained. Now that JD's condition had been upgraded, Nathan wanted to hear the doctor's plans for the best way to transition JD to a home recovery. Despite all of the precautions they'd taken the hospital simply wasn't secure enough to protect someone with a target on their back like JD. So Nathan planned to push for the injured agent's release just as soon as it was medically feasible.

"Not a problem, Nathan," Buck assured. "You get everything squared away with Doc. I'll be done in a couple of minutes anyway." Hearing Nathan's farewell, Buck went back to his washing, pleased that the hot spray was helping to rinse away the cobwebs that had gathered in his mind during the long night's vigil. Hopefully a heaping helping of coffee with breakfast would be enough to keep him alert until some of the others could break away from the investigation long enough to relieve him. Buck wished he had a better idea of how the investigation was proceeding. Hell, he wanted to be out there right now, on the streets, running down leads and charming needed information out of the mouths of allies and enemies alike. But at the same time the agent knew that someone had to stay behind to protect JD and if the choice was whether to be in the middle of the hunt or safe guarding his friend, well then JD won hands down. Still, that didn't stop Buck from wishing that Chris or one of the others would call with some new (and preferably good) information. That thought was still working through the tall man's brain when he heard the refrain from Margarita Ville signal that Chris was trying to reach him on his cell phone. Cursing, he turned off the water and grabbed a towel, unsuccessfully trying to dry himself and step out of the shower simultaneously. Slipping on the tile floor, Buck's grip on the sink barely saved him from a rather undignified landing. Muttering, "Don't hang up, I'll be right there," to whoever was on the other end of the cell signal, he paused just long enough to secure the towel around his waist before pushing through the bathroom door.

* * *

><p>DEA agent Michael Clayton was finally going to see an end to the totally FUBAR disaster that had taken control of his life for the last twenty-four hours. It started bad enough with a necessary meeting with a couple of lowlife scum that helped line his pockets. But when said scum had brought a third-party into the meeting; a decidedly dangerous and unwelcome third-party who just happened to be a member of the ATF's premier undercover unit, the day was effectively down the toilet. The recognition in Agent Dunne's eyes had been immediate so Clayton hadn't hesitated to expose the young man for the lying rat that he was. It had almost been worth it for the look of shock and betrayal that played across Dunne's face. Sure the agent had tried to deny Clayton's claims and even muddied the waters with a too-late counter accusation, but since Hunter and Lyshe already knew Clayton was a crooked Fed it did Dunne no good. A quick search of the junior agent's person had provided a badge and ID confirming Clayton's claims. It also told Clayton that Dunne hadn't expected to be working undercover; this was a random meeting which meant that Dunne had zero backup. Resisting his initial impulse to immediately kill the agent, Clayton decided to gather a little intel first. As they tied Dunne to the chair the agent had tried to talk them out of their planned course of action, reminding them that harming a federal agent was sure to bring down more heat than they could tolerate. But Clayton had assured his accomplices that no one would have any reason to connect them to the agent's disappearance once they properly disposed of the body.<p>

The beating had started slow, with Clayton asking a question and Dunne refusing to give a satisfactory answer. But as blow after blow failed to bring the information Clayton required he started to get really pissed off. It wasn't like he wanted much; just what, if any, information the Seven had gathered on Hunter, Lyshe and their 'information' guy. Who did this kid think he was, sitting there so stoic under abuse, threatening with his silence to destroy everything that Clayton had built? Dunne acted as though it was inconceivable for a federal agent to use their knowledge and contacts to make money instead of serving the public. Everyone bent the rules to get what they wanted; Clayton was simply better at it than most. Yet the punishment he was doling out seemed to have no effect on Dunne's quiet resolve. Sure, the kid was giving him a few moans and whimpers but he still wasn't telling Clayton what he needed to know; he still refused to break to Clayton's will. Clayton's vindictive side decided that he would be doing the world a favor by getting rid of Dunne, because no one this naïvely idealistic deserved to live. Eventually the dirty agent stopped asking questions and enjoyed the rush of power that came with slowly, systematically beating another to death.

Unfortunately, his accomplices didn't have the stomach for it and pulled him away before he could finish the job; demanding to know how he planned to get rid of the body. It was then that Clayton decided his lowlife accomplices would also have to die. After all, they were the only ones that could tie him to Dunne, and he just knew that they were the type to try something stupid like blackmail later. No, it was better to clean house now, strike quickly before they saw it coming. Sadly there was one thing that Clayton didn't see coming. After the beating he'd delivered, Dunne should have been dead; instead the agent was not only conscious but able to escape his bonds and flee. By the time he and the others had heard noise on the stairs Dunne had too much of a lead. Hunter called just moments after they'd checked the alley to inform them that Dunne had been hit by an SUV, but it brought little relief. Not when somehow, miraculously, Dunne was still alive. Clayton was determined to make sure the miracle didn't last. He'd almost succeeded, too, by flashing Dunne's own badge (no reason to let anyone see his DEA version) and claiming the need to immediately arrest the dangerous criminal. This time it was the paramedics that foiled his plan; in particular the young one refused to let him remove Dunne from the scene without treatment. There was another idealist that Clayton would love to put a bullet in. Once the patrol car arrived Clayton chose to make himself scarce. After the beating Clayton had given him plus the hit from the SUV there was no way that Dunne would be in any condition to speak of what had happened.

Clayton could afford to wait to deal with Agent Dunne, but his accomplices were two loose ends that he couldn't leave hanging. Hunter and Lyshe had been pathetically easy to lure back to Hunter's place. A few pointed questions had revealed that while the two low level crooks had dealt mostly with Dunne they had also met his 'boss,' a southerner Clayton knew to be Ezra Standish. At that point it became easy to prioritize his hit list. First he killed Hunter and Lyshe, staging the scene to make it look like they had killed each other. The two poor fools never knew what hit them. He swung by Standish's place hoping to catch the undercover agent sleeping, but the condo was vacant. Planting some evidence he'd lifted from Hunter and Lyshe to blame them for the break in had only taken a few seconds. Next he would target Agent Dunne in the hospital before making another attempt on Standish. Clayton wondered if the nickname for Larabee's team would be changed from the Magnificent Seven to the Mediocre Five once Dunne and Standish were cold in their graves. The thought made the DEA agent smile.

A short nap and change later saw Clayton calling the hospital, under the guise of a journalist, to inquire about the federal agent hospitalized the night before. He was disappointed to hear that Dunne had survived the night. (Some people just didn't know when to die.) But soon Clayton was devising a new plan. A basic disguise of hair dye, throw away clothing and glasses; a lethally filled syringe, combined with a little bribe money for whoever was willing to make a distraction (and there was always someone willing to cause trouble for the right amount of cash) was all Clayton figured he needed besides timing. A quick walk through the emergency waiting room helped him locate a jonesing junky happy to do whatever for his next fix. Arriving at Dunne's medical ward was a bit disappointing. His contacts had warned him that part of ATF's Team Seven was staying in Dunne's room and Clayton could further see a patrol officer standing guard outside the door. He nursed his coffee for eight minutes before an opportunity presented itself. Dunne's coworker Jackson exited the protected room, spoke to the cop for a moment and then moved off down a side hall out of sight. Seizing the opening, Clayton signaled the junky that'd been waiting on a nearby couch with surprising patience. A smirk graced his face as the well-paid addict not only demanded the attention of the cop but also of an orderly and a security guard. It was almost too easy to approach Dunne's room. As he slipped through the door; syringe in hand, it was with supreme confidence that all his worries were about to end.

Inside the small care unit the lone patient lay unconscious on the room's only bed. The scene looked so perfect that Clayton was halfway across the room before he noticed the sound of running water coming from behind the door to the small corner bathroom. Realizing the water sounded like it was coming from a shower not a faucet he kept moving towards the vulnerable young agent. He didn't waste time wondering which of the Seven was showering in the bathroom. As long as luck stayed with him it would only take a few seconds to deal with Dunne and then Clayton would be out of there free and clear.

The blaring ringtone of Jimmy Buffet's Margaritaville sounded a bit too much like fate laughing at him. The sound of the shower turning off followed by movement and muttering allowed only a split second for Clayton to decide whether to continue or flee. While the logical part of Clayton's mind pointed out that the risks were now far outweighing the benefits, it also recognized that sooner or later Dunne would likely wake up and reveal what he knew. On the other hand, Clayton's vindictive nature whispered it was past time to end Dunne once and for all, and if discovery forced Clayton to fight his way out of the hospital so be it. Decision made, he grasped the clear IV bag and inserted the syringe needle. Across the room the bathroom door swung open while the cell phone continued to play. Clayton instantly recognized the tall brunet as Buck Wilmington. He smiled tauntingly at the surprised agent and declared, "Too late!" as he pressed down on the syringe plunger and filled the IV with its lethal serum.

* * *

><p>Casey smiled in greeting towards JD's coworker, "Hi Nathan. How is JD doing?"<p>

"He's definitely improving," Nathan reassured with a wide smile. "In fact, I just spoke with his doctor and he's very pleased with JD's progress. He won't be running any marathons in the near future, but give him a couple months and he'll be back to his old self. How about I walk you to his room and let you see for yourself?" Nathan offered.

"Great. I've got all sorts of stuff so he doesn't get bored and Aunt Nettie sent a bunch of food too. It's sure to be a welcome break from hospital grub."

"Casey, your Aunt Nettie's food it always a treat," agreed Nathan. They'd moved a short distance down the hall when Nathan's cell rang. Checking the display he explained, "I've got to take this call; it's from Chris. JD's room is the last one on the left." Then coffee skinned agent stepped back to answer his call in hushed tones.

Casey hoped it was good news. Maybe Chris and the others had caught up with whoever had hurt JD; his teammates were a force to be reckoned with. Approaching the door Nathan had described, Casey was alarmed to hear a crash and cursing. She rushed into the room to narrowly avoid being crushed by a tumble of bodies, one of which was a towel clad Buck.

"The IV's been tainted. Pull it out!" Buck shouted to Casey a he continued to battle the unknown assailant.

The stranger took advantage of Buck's momentary distraction by delivering a powerful right hook and gaining the upper hand. Casey hardly noticed as she rushed to JD's side; first bending the IV tubing double to cut off its flow and then quickly but carefully pulling the IV needle from JD's hand. She couldn't help letting out a panicked yelp when Buck and the attacker stumbled into the end of JD's hospital bed. JD moaned but remained unconscious. Casey had witnessed the occasional fight in the past, but none of them compared to the struggle before her. The usual dented ego or drunken temper was replaced with a predatory intent to maim and kill. Though Casey knew in her mind that she'd walked into the room just seconds ago, the fight seemed to be going on for hours. Both combatants were tiring yet neither had taken control. The certainty that Buck would protect them to his last breath didn't erase the fear that he might not be up to the challenge this time; especially when his assailant delivered two sharp blows to the abdomen. Buck retaliated with a hit to the ribs and a punch to the jaw, but Casey couldn't help but wonder how much longer he could keep the tit-for-tat up.

"Please wake up, JD," Casey rubbed her boyfriend's with gentle urgency. "We need to get you out of here." As she spoke the words, Casey knew it wasn't going to be easy. Even if JD woke up he'd still be hampered by his broken leg. Could Casey help him to the door? Probably, but getting the injured agent out of the room without his attacker noticing or stopping them was dicey at best. Another moan from the bed had Casey focusing on JD as he struggled to open his eyes. "That's it JD, wake up!" Maybe getting him to safety wouldn't be easy, but Casey strengthened her resolve to at least try.

"Case . . . y?" JD asked in a rough voice, confusion clouding his eyes. When he moved to sit up Casey quickly shifted to help him. "What's goin' on?" His eyes tracked to the sounds of struggle, instinctively knowing that danger was near. Before Casey could answer, the door to the hall was opened again.

"What the Hell is going on here?" shouted Nathan as he charged into the fray.

Michael Clayton heard the new threat but was unable to address it with Wilmington demanding all of his attention. Things weren't going at all like he'd planned. The irritating girl,_ (Where the hell had she come from anyway?)_ seemed to have rescued Dunne from the poisoned IV. Wilmington, whom he'd always written off as a lout who got by on his size and intimidation factor, was putting up a much more skilled defense than he'd expected. With Jackson returned, Clayton was outnumbered and he knew it was time to flee. He managed to shove Wilmington with enough force to knock the large man back, but his attempt to dart around Jackson was far less successful. The agent had caught Clayton's arm and swung him into the wall, jerking his wrist up behind his back in a textbook pin.

"Are you alright Buck?" asked Nathan as he restrained their suspect.

"Yeah, I'm good," replied Buck as he leaned against the wall clearly winded. "In case you hadn't figured it out, that creep your holding is the rotten Fed JD told us about, I think his name is Claymore or Clinton."

"Clayton," Nathan corrected, clearly remembering the aloof DEA agent from the Eagle Bend Taskforce. "Michael Clayton, you are under arrest for the murders of Trey Hunter and Henry 'Slick' Lyshe," he announced as he secured Clayton with handcuffs, "and the attempted murder of Federal Agent John Daniel Dunne. You have the right to remain silent . . ." the agent continued to Marandize Clayton as he walked him out the door.

"Well that was exciting," smiled Buck now that everyone was safe. Then again JD did still look a little pale. "Maybe we ought to have a doctor in here to make sure you didn't get any of the poison what's-his-name was trying to use on you."

"As long as you put something on," countered JD, his ears turning a bit red.

"Huh?" was Buck confused response.

"Buck, you're standing naked in front of my girlfriend!" JD spelled it out for Buck in exasperation, as a red blush darkened both cheeks.

Far from being embarrassed, Buck's grin grew when he looked down at his body and then at the floor where his towel lay. "Oops! Guess I lost this during the fight," Buck remembered. Taking pity on the young couple Buck continued, "I'll just change in the bathroom while you two catch up."

JD let out a disgruntled sigh. He wasn't sure what had been going on while he'd been asleep, but if it involved his girlfriend and a naked Buck there was no way he could be happy about it. "I'm sorry Casey," JD offered. When Casey merely raised her eyebrows JD continued, "for Buck being . . . well, Buck."

"It's not a problem," assured Casey, her eyes glue on JD. "I hadn't actually noticed."

Hearing that; JD decided maybe he could be happy about the situation after all.

* * *

><p>"Please, I just need to clarify once more," began Ezra mirthfully, "Our very own Mr. Wilmington valiantly and selflessly risked life and limb in all of his <em>natural<em> glory, and the only woman in the room 'didn't notice'?" All of the Seven laughed at Ezra's teasing recap.

"You're losing your touch," Vin taunted Buck good-naturedly.

"The only explanation," declared Buck, "is that poor sweet Casey is in love and love has made her blind."

JD groaned while the others continued to chuckle. It was the first time all seven had been together since JD's attack and everyone was comparing notes; currently at Buck's expense. Becoming more serious Ezra spoke again, this time directly to JD, "I would like to take this opportunity to thank you Mr. Dunne for your diligence and self sacrifice in seeing that I was warned about the risk to my person." When JD looked ready to protest Ezra pressed on. "Simply by escaping and drawing the attention of emergency services, you alerted our team and made sure that I was not at home sleeping when that loathsome Mr. Clayton broke into my abode intent on mayhem. I thank you JD for not giving up."

"Sure thing Ezra," murmured JD, a bit embarrassed by Ezra's declaration. Deciding to change the subject he asked, "How is the case against agent Clayton looking?"

"Pretty rock solid," assured Chris. "Despite his attempt to stage the scene and make it look like Hunter and Lyshe killed each other there's enough conflicting forensic evidence to nail him for it. We've got your testimony about Clayton not only blowing your cover but also beating you and planning to kill you. Plus Buck, Casey and Nathan's testimony about the second attack here in the hospital. The CSIs have the syringe and tainted IV which is being tested as we speak. And apparently the forensic accountants have tracked several accounts to Clayton's illegal dealings; some of which tie into Mexican cartels, they've also found a few links to a survivalist group and also a couple smaller local gangs."

"Wow," murmured JD, "Clayton couldn't have been too careful if they've got that much on him already."

"Well according to the senior agent I talked to at the DEA, at least a few people were suspicious, but they didn't have enough evidence to justify a thorough investigation. The minute he was arrested warrants went out and all of his dirty little secrets were exposed to the sun," explained Chris.

"Sounds to me," added Buck, "that those folks ought to be thanking you for breaking their case wide open."

"Nobody needs to thank me for being in the wrong place at the wrong time and meeting up with the wrong person," countered JD. "It was just stupid, blind luck."

"Let's not forget the procedural violation where you engaged in contact with suspects without giving notification or gathering back up," Chris pointed out sternly. "We will be reviewing contact procedure once you're out of here." JD squirmed beneath Chris' firm declaration. "But that aside, when the situation turned; you kept a cool head, waited for your opportunity and stayed alive. I'm proud of you for that."

"Thanks Chris," JD accepted the praise though he still didn't think he deserved it. His memory of recent events might be a bit cloudy, but he was certain of one thing: he never would have survived without the others. Sure he'd been alone when Clayton along with Hunter and Lyshe had tied him to a chair and beaten him, but even then his mind had been full of thoughts that assured everything would be alright if only he could reach his team, that they'd rush to his aid and defend him against all comers. It was that absolute certainty, that pure faith that had kept JD's spirit going long after his body and mind were ready to give. Looking at his teammates crowded into the little room, he recognized that these men were not just his friends, but his family; and he knew that his faith had been more than justified.

**The End**

Author's Note: I originally started this story back in 2007, but 'real life' came knocking and forced me to reprioritize. Unfortunately writing fan fiction didn't make the cut. Once I was able to again indulge my beloved pastime I decided to finish what I'd started so long ago. Please let me know what you think of it and I'll give bonus points to anyone who can figure out which scenes were written before my 3 ½ year hiatus.


End file.
